


Supernovas

by gremlinpolice



Series: Celestial Bodies [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Astrology, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Insecurity, Smut, Sort Of, let draco fuck 2020, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlinpolice/pseuds/gremlinpolice
Summary: He’s complicated. You know there’s more on his mind going on than he will let on; with his father locked up, he carries his family’s pride on his shoulders, and it doesn’t take a Seer to see that it is a heavy burden to bear. You didn’t mind being his break from that—if you were in his shoes, you would need a breather too. Maybe that’s all he needs— for someone to show him some human kindness, and all the cold, cruel walls he has built would fall away— if only for a little bit.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Reader
Series: Celestial Bodies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921249
Comments: 12
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

“No way,” you laughed, giving Draco a bewildered yet amused look, “there’s no way you scored an Outstanding on your Divination O.W.L. I _barely_ got Exceeds Expectations; you couldn’t have—”

“I most certainly could!” Draco argues back, closing his Defense Against the Dark Arts book with a snap and a playful roll of his eyes. “Just because I don’t go around blathering about my accomplishments doesn’t mean I am not accomplished. I have such a thing called subtlety,” he remarks pointedly, his silver eyes bright and full of life.

“Are you insinuating that I blather, Malfoy?” You feign offense, clutching weakly at your chest, “And you may not brag about your academic feats, but I’m positive that the whole _castle_ knew when you arrived anywhere after Slytherin won a quidditch match.”

At quidditch, Draco winces. He wasn’t playing on the team this year, he was ill. That was bollocks, of course, he had probably gotten bored with the constant attention and admiration from Slytherin house, but you couldn’t be sure. He didn’t talk about it.

The two of you were sat on an old quilt from your room underneath an old beech tree near the Black Lake. You decided to take advantage of the uncharacteristically warm October weather and study outside, offhandedly invited Draco to join you, and were more than a little surprised when he accepted. This wouldn’t be the first time you would spend time together with clothes on, but the first with other people so close by.

You headed down to the lake, setting yourselves up a little ways off the beaten path, away from prying eyes. You could handle the curious glances, but you suspected Draco was a bit more fragile in that respect. You didn’t mind, though, that just meant you had more of him to yourself. Hidden in the trees, you had a good view of students and faculty roaming the castle grounds, enjoying the mild weather, tucked just out of view.

And if things did begin to heat up between you, you could be relatively certain that no unwanted guests stumbling in.

“So, how did you manage an Outstanding in Divination?” You ask, steering the subject back into calmer waters, “You must teach me your ways, oh wise one.” You smile at him, which he, mercifully, returns. Draco casts his eyes downward, suppressing his pleased grin. Even though he knows you’re teasing him, he glows with the praise.

“I have my ways,” he offers secretively, running a hand through his hair, “Actually, would you think I was too daft if I said that I genuinely found it interesting?” He gives an uneasy smile, and you laugh.

“Malfoy,” you start, giggling, “are you ashamed of having an interest?”

“What? No!” he insists defensively, swatting at your arm, “It’s just—not something I’m known for, or what a lot of _other_ people find… interesting. I still think Trelawney’s a complete tosser, but I read ahead in the books, and I just think that it’s sort of cool.”

He looks nervous, admitting this out loud; his cheeks are a slight pink, he can’t quite meet your gaze, but there’s a smile playing at the edge of his lips. It’s endearing—almost cute, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud.

“Draco, liking things isn’t weird,” you chide, poking him in the side, “It’s normal. It makes you human.” You push your own books out of your lap, stretching out on the quilt.

The look he gives you is somewhere between grateful and mournful, as if the concept of being human was just out of his reach.

He’s complicated. You know there’s more on his mind going on than he will let on; with his father locked up, he carries his family’s pride on his shoulders, and it doesn’t take a Seer to see that it is a heavy burden to bear. You didn’t mind being his break from that—if you were in his shoes, you would need a breather too. Maybe that’s all he needs— for someone to show him some human kindness, and all the cold, cruel walls he has built would fall away— if only for a little bit. Besides, the relationship wasn’t completely one-sided; you in turn got someone to spend time with beyond your roommates, not to mention the sex.

It isn’t until now that you realize Draco has laid down on the quilt, resting his head in your lap. You sigh and ruffle his hair absentmindedly, looking up through the tree branches to the crisp blue sky. In this moment, it was peaceful.

“Will you meet me in the Astronomy Tower tonight?” You ask, running your thumb across his hairline.

Draco makes an amused sound, smirking, “Can’t get enough, can you?” He’s teasing, but not really. You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead lightly to chastise him.

“I want to show you something, come at midnight. And don’t act like a prat, or else you will _not_ be coming.” The play on words isn’t lost to him and he scoffs, furrowing his brow at your insinuation.

“I’ll show you who’s coming,” he returns, a weak attempt at a comeback but at least he’s trying. As much fire shown within, now he’s content to lay in your lap and let you pet his hair as if any other woman would love to be in your place.

Besides Firenze’s classroom, the Astronomy tower was your favorite place in the entire castle. You had brought your telescope, your quilt (which you had cast a cushioning charm on), a jar with a bluebell flame inside to keep warm, setting yourself up at the edge of the tower, where the battlements began. The highest tower at Hogwarts, it had a perfect view of the night sky, which was exactly what you needed tonight—clarity.

“So, what’s your plan for tonight?” Draco asks, climbing the stairs to the tower. He had put on a jumper over his white button up shirt, which made sense since the temperature had dropped with nightfall—he looked cozy, and as cute as a man like Draco Malfoy could look.

You smile, chuckling softly. You didn’t have a plan—you rarely did—but his faith in you spread warmth throughout your chest.

“Nothing, really,” you admit, patting a spot next to you on the quilt spread on the hard-stone floor, and Draco sits with long legs stretched out in front of him, “I just like it up here. I have a standing reservation for Friday nights; Sinistra gave me special permission back in third year, so we won’t get in trouble, probably.” Your heart thrums hard in your ribcage, and you feel almost breathless under his gaze. You fiddle with the sleeve of your cardigan anxiously. He was close to you; close enough for you to reach up run your fingers through his hair. So, you did. He closes his eyes as he melts into your touch for a moment, before his eyelids fly them open and taking your hand in his. There are moments when he lets himself be tender, but he snaps himself out of them much too quickly for your liking.

“Really,” he muses, a cocky air about him, “And it has nothing to do with the fact that we have a clear view of Venus tonight?” He’s raises one eyebrow and smirks, as if he had figured out your plot. Venus, indeed, would be on your side tonight.

“While I appreciate your commitment to the science of astronomy, Draco,” you start, giving him a nearly devilish smile, “Venus is not the only thing I’m interested in tonight.”

Draco grins darkly, teeth glinting in the light of the waxing crescent-moon. Taking out his wand, he casts that silencing charm—you really had to get him to teach it to you one of these days, but that’s not important right now. Right now, he’s leaning in, taking your lips in his, and you let out a gasp.

Mars and Saturn were in perfect view along with Venus, and you could feel their influence radiating down from the heavens; passion, pleasure, and patience were all in play. The wild differences between Mars’ fiery temper and Saturn’s mild reason frightened you, and earlier you had considered telling Draco to come back another night when the cosmos were feeling calmer—but you trust Venus, your ruling planet, to be a fair mediator, and place your faith in her.

You let him work, pulling you into his lap and kissing you until you were breathless. His chest heaves against your back as his hands roam your body, cradling your breasts, squeezing at your hip, dipping between your thighs and making you keen against him. His hard length presses against your back, but you were in no hurry tonight, there was no desperation in his breathing. You could take your time to explore.

Shifting, you loop your arms around his neck and turn, straddling him. It was slightly awkward, and you bump heads more than a few times, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Neither do you.

Draco presses his lips and tongue to your neck and brings his hands up to push your cardigan from your shoulders. You shiver in the cool night air, but quickly relax back into the heat from the bluebell flame and the heat exchanged between yours bodies. In turn, you snake your hands under his jumper, slowly pulling it up and over his head.

When you reconnect, he smiles against your lips, unbuttoning your blouse with unhurried fingers. You, on the other hand, have a different idea.

Grasping his wrists, you lead him to lay down, his back against the faded quilt. You lean over him, the undone blouse giving him a view of your cleavage as you work on the buttons of his own shirt. He’s hot under your touch, and you look up to see his face; eyes blown wide with lust, swollen and flushed lips hanging open to take in as much oxygen as possible. He looked positively beautiful, and you told him so.

“You’re just saying that to get me in the sack,” he retorts sarcastically, giving you a wink. You laugh.

“I don’t think I need to resort to flattery to get you in the sack, Draco,” you remark, kissing him on the cheek.

Whit his chest and torso exposed, you run your hands over the flesh, rising and falling beneath you. You go to peel the shirt from his shoulders when he tenses under your touch, grabbing your wrists.

“N-no,” he chokes out nervously, “I, uh, I have a scar.” He nods to his left side, silver eyes pleading.

“Do you think that I’m shallow enough to care about a silly scar?” You ask with a frown, raising your eyebrow curiously. Your thoughts race; what had you done to give him that thought?

“No, no it’s not- just… Don’t, please,” he begs softly. Draco Malfoy didn’t beg, so you left it alone. For now. This was a line for him; one he trusted you not to cross, so you wouldn’t.

Holding your hands up for a moment in a mock surrender, you smile at him, trying to set him back at ease. Instead, you brought your hands to your own shirt and finished the work he had started, shrugging out of it and discarding it near your telescope, leaving you in a grey, lacy bra.

You make a show of removing the bra, unclasping it with one hand, running the other over your collarbone and pushing the fabric off of your body. Immediately, Draco’s hands are on your breasts and he leans up, taking one in his mouth. You gasp when his teeth graze over your nipple, your skin blossoming into goosebumps at the sensation.

After a few moments, you decide that he’s still wearing too much clothing. With the knowledge that his shirt is off limits, you shift your attention to his pants—plain black slacks that fit absolutely _divinely_. While you had to admit that they did look good on him, they would look much better _off._

“May I?” You ask, leaning in to close to whisper in his ear. You hook your thumbs in the waistband of his trousers, tugging twice to make him aware.

Draco’s head falls back and his eyes flutter shut as he nods; he looks positively wrecked and you had barely touched him. You smile, reveling in the effect that you had on him, and start working at his straining zipper. Slowly, you peel the clothing from his body, taking a moment to appreciate his body laid bare before you. He really was beautiful—he could have been carved out of marble, with his toned thighs and calves, which held up his lean, muscled abdomen and slightly broader chest. If you said it once, you had said it one thousand times; thank Merlin for quidditch. Even if he wasn’t on the team anymore, Draco had certainly not let up with his exercise regiment, and it showed beautifully. His face was thinner, though, than you remember; more gaunt, more grey. Not unattractive, but worrisome.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” He asks cheekily, propping himself up on his elbows.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I didn’t realize you were in a hurry; would you like to just get it over with?” You tease, leaning in and grasping the base of his cock.

“ _Merlin_ no, take your time, please,” he exhales as you begin to stroke him lightly, “I was just going to suggest that a picture would last longer, but I suspect there’s a, uh, deliberateness behind your actions.” His babbling makes you smile, giggling as you lean in to kiss him. You know what people say about him, but how could someone so sweet be evil?

“I wouldn’t call my actions deliberate,” you murmur, “I would say, though, that my spontaneity often pays off,” running your thumb over the head of his cock, he whimpers deliciously into your mouth, “wouldn’t you agree?” He nods, releasing a frustrated groan as you continue to tease him for just a moment longer before deciding to have mercy.

Back in the boathouse, you only got to suck his cock for a few moments before he started to fuck you, but this time you were determined to take your time in taking him completely apart.

Taking him in your mouth was the easy part—despite his size—the hard part was getting him to keep still enough so that the erratic movement of his hips doesn’t choke you. You hear him hiss, and feel his fingers winding in your hair— pulling every so often, your name on his lips.

Pulling off of his cock with a pop, dragging your open mouth along his length, down to the base, where you begin peppering kisses on his hips and thighs. You wrap your fingers around him again, giving a few strokes before you moved up to lay next to him.

The noises that Draco is making are _beautiful_ , and you would be remiss if you didn’t savor every sound he makes by being as close to the source as possible. You rest your head on his chest, tucking yourself under his right arm, relishing in the closeness. His breathing is quick and ragged as you take him in your hand again, twisting your wrist in a way that makes him gasp.

“How’s this?”

“It’s- you’re- _blimey_ it’s good,” he breathes, wrapping his arm around your waist, grasping your hip, holding on tight.

You glow from how responsive he is to your touch. With each stroke he lets out breathy moans, fingernails digging into your hip, which would be a little painful if it wasn’t so _hot._ His other hand finds the back of your neck, crushing you into him even further as you work his cock.

When he comes, he makes a low noise—almost like a growl—while gripping you tightly, holding you still as his orgasm overtakes him. You’re breathless yourself at this point, resting limply in his arms while he rides out the aftershocks, tilting your head up to mutter sweet, soothing words in his ear.

Draco holds you for a few minutes, letting his breathing even out, and you are content to just be held by him. You’re aching for some contact between your legs, but it fades with each passing moment, enjoying the intimacy you found in his arms for now.

When Draco rolls onto his side— pushing you onto your back, effectively reversing your positions, it’s clear he has other ideas. He’s propped up on one elbow and tucks you under him, trailing his free hand across your bare chest and stomach, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Without hesitation and with relative ease, he unbuttons your corduroy pants, fingertips teasing at the waistband of your knickers. Your eyes flutter shut.

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, but I really, really, want to,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss to your neck, “do you want to be touched?”

Your head is swimming; you’re both clammy and more than a little filthy, but you also might combust if you didn’t get some release. And, well, he was offering.

“Draco, please,” you muster weakly, and he smirks lazily, slipping his hand down the front of your knickers, wasting no time.

You’re always amazed by how he knows where you need his fingers most. With other boys, it was always a struggle trying to communicate to them where you needed to be touched, and they either didn’t listen or didn’t care to listen. With Draco, though, it was like he was always meant to touch you. Your bodies fit together so perfectly, and he always _wanted_ to touch you.

Since you’re already so madly turned on, it doesn’t take long until you’re shaking under him, “ _Fuck_ , Draco!” The stars you see aren’t just the night sky, they’re so much bigger and brighter than anything you could find up there.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hairline as you come down.

Good girl.

 _His_ good girl.

After your head had stopped spinning, you grab your wand and perform a cleansing spell—Merlin knows you both need it—and curl into him, gazing at the stars.

“I like it up here,” you say again, voice hoarse, breaking the silence between you, “the stars make me feel peaceful.”

“They’re millions of lightyears away, and have already begun to explode,” he starts, raising his arm in a vague gesture, “By the time their light reaches us, they’ve died. We look at dead things in the night sky and think they’re beautiful—a bit macabre, really.” Of course, he would see it that way, that the heavens are beautiful to us at the cost of their life. His pessimism spoke volumes.

“I still think it’s peaceful,” you resolve, feeling his heartbeat in your ear, “Compared to them, we’re so small, it’s humbling. Our little lives, problems, and dreams mean so little in the grand scheme of things. Nothing we do is really permanent.”

He lets out a single laugh, “Well that’s a bit dark, isn’t it? If none of us matter, why do we keep living?” He doesn’t say it, and he won’t, but his question is about more than the stars.

“That’s why it’s beautiful. Even if our actions don’t mean much to Venus, Mars, or Saturn, that doesn’t mean they’re insignificant to the other lives we touch,” you let out a shaky breath, taking his hand in yours, “We can be planets and stars to the people we meet.”

Draco doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added another lil chapter to this one, it felt like it fit, no smut so sorry. a little bit of a delve into the readers complicated relationship with draco

The weather changed drastically from the mild weather you had enjoyed a little more than a week ago. October was always a tumultuous month about the castle, and this one was no different. The snow on the ground kept you bundled up inside reading up on myomancy for a lesson you were planning for Firenze, away from the cold and the cruelty of the chaos happening outside.

“Lavender Brown said that they had to take her St. Mungo’s while she was _still_ midair, like she was a balloon on a string.”

“I heard she was screaming so loud she summoned a banshee and that’s why we don’t have Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow, Snape is getting rid of it.”

“Potter’s been going mental, too, he told Neville that he thinks Malfoy did it to her.”

Your eyes snap from the chapter on the differences between the different types of twigs and over to a small gathering of your roommates sat on Mandy’s bed. You had been in your room all day reading, and Morag, Padma, and Mandy had just returned from a trip to Hogsmeade. Usually, you do well to block out their chatter while you work, but your ears prick at the mention of Draco.

Morag looks over to you, holding up her hands defensively, “What? I heard it this morning at breakfast. For a boy with so many secrets he sure talks loudly.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you admit, closing your book and sitting on the edge of your bed to face them. They look nervous.

“It’s Katie Bell,” Padma starts slowly, as if she’s unsure what to even say, “she’s been cursed. They don’t know why.”

“She was walking back from Hogsmeade with that Hufflepuff girl from Transfiguration, Leanne, and shot up ten feet in the air, screaming,” Mandy continues, “they rushed her off to St. Mungo’s.”

“But what does it have to do with Dr- with Malfoy?” you ask, trying to keep from looking so anxious.

“I don’t know, nothing probably,” Morag shrugs, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, “But you know Potter, he’s never trusted the bloke. Not that he has a reason to trust him, after the Inquisitorial Squad and his huge Death Eater dad.”

You scowl, but she isn’t wrong.

“I just hope she’s okay,” Padma sighs, and the rest of your murmur in agreement.

Katie was a kind girl; she loaned you a quill last term in Muggle Studies, and let you copy her notes when you were out sick for a day. She didn’t like Draco, or anyone that believed in pure-blood supremacy—that much she made clear in Muggle Studies, but that wasn’t a good enough reason for someone to curse her.

It didn’t make sense.

Your friends didn’t know about your relationship with Draco Malfoy, and they didn’t need to, not yet. Right now, though, you were glad that you hadn’t confided in them; the last thing you needed was your roommates to be suspicious of you.

“I’m going for a walk, I’ll see you at dinner,” you mumble, pulling on a jumper and a pair of boots, leaving your roommates to sit and gossip. It was a long walk to the Owlery.

_Draco,_

_I want to talk to you; can we meet tonight?_

You sent the letter off with a large silver tawny owl, one of the school birds, hoping he’d get back to you soon. Outside the Owlery, a light snow was falling on the frosted ground. If all the flora hadn’t been dead or dying, it would have been beautiful, peaceful even. The winter never suited you, but you couldn’t deny that you relished the quiet that the first snowfall brought with it, smothering the land and the people who lived on it.

_Not tonight_. _Another time._

Your answer comes just after supper with a small black screech owl tapping aggressively at your window. Your roommates grumble when you let it in, letting cold air in with it. You frown.

This was the first time Draco had turned down a meeting with you. Something didn’t feel right, and you didn’t intend to wait to find out.

“Padma,” you call from the window, still looking at the letter, “Do you have rounds tonight?”

“No,” she frowns, “I think it’s Slytherin and Hufflepuff tonight. Why?” She looks up curiously from her parchment.

“Ernie and I are paired up for the Charms project and I had a question for him about it. It’s not important,” you lie, stuffing the paper into your pocket and gathering your books, “I’m going to work in the library, if anyone cares to join me.” You grab a small package from inside your bedside table, tossing it in with you books and slinging your bag over your shoulder, your roommates shake their heads and wave you off. Splendid.

Hidden in the secret passage behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the first floor, you waited, a Weather in A Bottle from your Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes stash held tightly in your hand. It wasn’t yet half past ten, just barely after curfew, so the Slytherin’s should be making their rounds any minute now. All you had to do was be patient.

“…what I wouldn’t give to see the look on her face when she was hurtled into the air! Can you imagine!” The voice of Pansy Parkinson echoes through the hallway, and you steel yourself.

“Honestly, Pansy, enough.” Draco retorts, the edge in his voice obvious even from where you were standing. Just a few more steps…

“What’s gotten into you, Draco? That blood traitor got what she deserves. She’s not better than—” Now.

As they pass you, you throw the bottle at their heels, and it shatters, releasing a monsoon into the corridor. You hear them both shout, but you’re quick to act. Casting an Impervius charm on your robes, you reach out and grab Draco’s wrist. He looks up and draws his wand, blinking through the rain. He’s only shocked for a moment, almost immediately springing to action as he lets you lead him away.

“I think I see them Pans, I’m going after them. Go get a professor!” he shouts, his eyes never leaving you as you pull him into the secret passageway.

It’s only dark for a moment, until Draco whispers “ _Lumos”_ and the small corridor is filled with light. In turn, you cast a warming spell, drying Draco’s clothes and hair in an instant. He lets out a shaky breath before muttering a ‘thank-you,’ and crosses his arms.

“What in the name of Merlin was that?” he hisses, his voice more concerned than venomous, “do you know how much trouble you could have gotten into?”

“It crossed my mind,” you shrug, water dripping off of your robes and forming a small puddle beneath you, “I wanted to talk to you, and I knew I could get you alone tonight. I don’t appreciate being brushed off, you know.”

Draco huffs out an exasperated breath and closes his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t brush you off, I was just—there’s a lot going on,” he resolves, “What did you want to talk about? What couldn’t wait?”

You gulp nervously but stand your ground. “Do you know who cursed Katie Bell?”

He freezes, looking down at you, searching your expression. The hard line of his mouth twitches for a moment, and his eyes are wide.

“Why would you think I know anything about that?” His voice is low, and his eyes are dark— but not in a way that made you excited. It frightened you.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Draco.”

He tears his gaze away from yours, cursing under his breath.

“I thought you were different,” he whispers, “Everyone thinks I’m a monster, that I’m capable of- of _that_. They’re wrong,” he scrubs his hands over his face in frustration, and you can see every muscle in his body tense, “I’m not my father.”

His father. He had never talked about his father with you. You knew living in a house with Lucius Malfoy couldn’t have been a picnic, and the pure-blood ideology forced on him from a young age is hard to escape. But there’s a point where you grow up, where you make your own choices, believe what you know to be true, and you weren’t sure if Draco was there yet.

“Of course you’re not your father,” you say in a gentle voice, “but you haven’t given much of a reason for them to think otherwise. You have to know that they way you speak about muggle-borns, about _people_ , doesn’t make you seem very different from him.”

Draco’s eyes burn red, tears welling in the corners. You pity him. If you are told you are a monster, sooner or later, you start to believe it.

You reach out to take his hand. He flinches at the contact at first, but lets you lace your fingers through his, and bring his hand up to your lips and press a kiss to his knuckles. He lets out a long shaky breath and closes his eyes, letting a few tears escape down his cheeks, leaving a trail that shines in the wandlight.

“I think, Draco, if you wanted to, you could be different.”

He lets out a short, dry laugh, shaking more tears from his eyes, “No one really believes they can change,” he offers pessimistically. You keep on it, though.

“I believe in you,” you admit quietly, running your thumb over the back of his hand.

Draco smiles, shaking his head, “You know,” he states cautiously, avoiding your gaze, “I don’t like myself very much. But,” he pauses, taking a deep breath in, “I like who I am when I’m around you.”

“For what it’s worth, Malfoy, I like who you are with me too,” you start, raising your eyebrow, “because you’re not spewing hateful bullshit. I want to spend time with you, believe me, I really, _really_ do, but I don’t want to be around someone who is cruel to people.” He closes his eyes, nodding in acceptance, “Can you make an effort, for me?” You look at him pleadingly, and he sighs.

“I will. I want to.” Draco squeezes your hand; a promise. That was far easier than you had expected. Not that you were expecting him to hex you where you stood, but at least a little bit of a fight. This was good too, though.

“Good,” you nod, a cheeky smile spreading across your face, “because I would really hate to be sleeping with a bigot.” He chuckles, his head falling forward to rest in the crook of your neck. It’s nice, holding him like that, it feels real, authentic, like you were always meant to be holding each other. You push the thought away, burying it deep in your subconscious with things like your grade point average and your father’s birthday; it wasn’t important right now, anyway.

“You know, you’re probably my closest friend,” Draco states, voice muffled.

Holding him close, something deep inside your chest aches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alt title: trying to justify a relationship with draco malfoy knowing that he's a bigot throughout most of the series B-)

**Author's Note:**

> hey i'm back. i think i'm gonna add another chapter to this installment, but we'll see. i'm building up a little bit of a plot for this so stay tuned. i also feel like snape totally taught malfoy some of the spells he invented, especially muffliato bc that totally comes in handy during their lil meetings, and draco uses it for more... intimate reasons. whatever you get the idea. thanks for all the positive feedback!!!


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